


Shelter

by SocialMoth



Series: Host [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Body Image, Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Menstruation, Past Relationship(s), Please Don't Hate Me, Self-Esteem Issues, Stillbirth, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Keith (Voltron), Why Did I Write This?, i hope this makes you happy, implied past dub-con, oh right, one of you HEATHENS asked for period sex, past mpreg (sort of), past pregnancy, the author can have little a regret as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialMoth/pseuds/SocialMoth
Summary: "I'm ovulating."Lance choked on his milkshake with undignified spluttering, and with a sleeve across his mouth he gaped wide-eyed at Keith. He stood in the doorway to his room, a loose shirt over shorts and his unbound chest, clearly dressed for bed, a light flush to his cheeks as he crossed his arms over his body.Lance blinked. "Come again?""Ovulating. Right now."Incredulity pulled at Lance's features. Keith seethed lightly and pressed the heel of his palm into his lower left abdomen, mouth twisting as his body leaned to follow."And?" Lance squeaked, uncertain what he was meant to do with this very personal information.Keith rolled his eyes, straightening. "And, that means in a week or so, it should be safe to have sex." He walked further into the room, the door hissing shut behind him.--This work is my intellectual property. I do not give you or anyone else permission to offer my works for download.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), implied past sheith - Relationship, past Lance/OFC
Series: Host [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750087
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> August 2019
> 
> The bullshit continues. 
> 
> :D
> 
> -
> 
> Uh, I think a followup/timestamp thing to "Host" about their First Time was going to happen no matter what, and then someone suggested period sex and well. It's not like I have any dignity left. XD
> 
> ...I've not personally experienced period sex so uhhhh #CreativeLicense as always. o_o'
> 
> As with "Host," please heed the tags, and if you have a spoon please let me know if I missed anything.
> 
> Also as with "Host," the timeline for this is a non-specific post-S2 AU where Shiro never disappeared cos What Even Is Canon.
> 
> Also, cos it's easy to miss in the body text, gonna iterate that Keith was 18 before any events kicked into motion. Cool? Cool. Okay.
> 
> I don't think this is my strongest writing, personally, but I hope y'all like it(?) anyway.

Lance had counted every day since he finally kissed Keith for the first time. Every day. Without hyperbole, for a long time it was the first thing he remembered upon waking, and the last thing he reflected on as he waited to fall asleep. When he laid eyes on Keith in the hallway, in the training room, at the dining table, he recalled the unexpected velvet of his lips, the heat inside his mouth, and how the softest noises whispered from his throat when Lance angled his jaw to taste him a little deeper.

They had kissed many times again, each one of them extraordinary. But Lance would always remember the first. And every time Keith blushed the prettiest shade of pink when they watched each other too long, he knew the other always remembered the same.

One day, kissing would no longer be enough. They had known this from the beginning. Keith was not shy about his desires, and Lance felt guilty about the wait. They wanted. They knew this. But they feared what might come from it.

Much like their first kiss, it seemed only yesterday to Lance that Keith confessed to delivering Shiro's stillborn son less than two years ago. Keith never revealed the circumstances of their coupling, but Lance dared to conclude it had been a one-time thing, right before Shiro left on the Kerberos mission, and Keith had felt selfish.

However it came about, the strain of an unplanned pregnancy as a single, transgender young man, compounded by the trauma of laboring alone only to give birth to a deceased infant, had all made Keith rather gun-shy of penetrative sex, despite it being the thing he craved most. They had discussed condoms, they had gone over anal, or using Lance's fingers or even just a toy. He'd struggled against tears and found himself unable to speak at the end of it all, so Lance dropped the discussion and cuddled him gently instead, kissing his tears away and reassuring him all he ever wanted was Keith to be happy.

And focusing on Keith's comfort gave Lance a reason to ignore his own unease; he'd been a virgin until the week they kissed, and he would give anything for his first experience of sex to have gone to Keith as well. Going to bed with a queen bee was every perpetually single schoolboy's dream. But to go to bed with a literal alien wasp and wake up the next morning a walking and talking nest for her rapidly developing eggs was a nightmare no one could have planned for. Lance had no reason to presume his body was any better or worse for wear than Keith's, but the grueling incubation and later delivery, though lasting less than that same week all told, still left a chilling fear in Lance's heart every time he considered any further sexual acts. Never mind that, between the two of them, Keith would be the only one taking an actual risk.

Still, they both wanted. When they got too deep into nunville, Keith tended to climb on first, licking into Lance's mouth and rocking heavily into the pleasant warmth under his hips. And Lance would get aroused, interest straining against the damp heat between Keith's legs, and Keith would grind down with a heady moan, fists curling in Lance's shirt collar and Lance's hands roving over his back and gripping his taut thighs either side of him for leverage.

They usually stopped there. Either Keith would panic, or Lance would say they were too drunk, it didn't feel right to say 'yes' to anything now. And while the heart-clenching fact Keith didn't think his consent that important warranted a series of conversations on its own, Lance deeply wanted their first time together to be conscious and fully felt, unclouded by desperate emotions or seeking to fill some primal need that only alcohol gave them courage to admit to.

Keith would stare at him for a moment, close his eyes for another, and then sink down against Lance's chest and suppress a frustrated sigh through his nose. He would stay with his hands latched over Lance's shoulders, and Lance would hook his arms around his back and they would lay like that for a few minutes or until they fell into drunken sleep, waking the next morning with splitting headaches and a mutually assured relief that they had waited another day.

How strange, Lance thought to himself, that all he wanted was to finally have sex with Keith now they had come together, and yet at every opportunity he backed himself away and later felt glad of it.

Whether Keith felt the same way, he never specifically asked. But there was something to the way his deep violet eyes would glow at him while he got dressed, that had him thinking Keith felt grateful not to wake up desperately trying to remember if they had used protection.

They had condoms now. Lance had found them at a convenience store of sorts on a planetary stopover, bought them with a fierce blush once he realized his face was on a fucking poster calling for recruits to the Voltron Coalition and the cashier recognized him – thank the Ancients they didn't ask which other Paladin he was hoping to quiznak later – and for weeks now they had laid buried in the back corner of his skincare drawer. He told Keith the day he bought them. So he would know when the time finally came, they would be prepared.

Some day, however, they were both going to be sober and Keith would tell him he was finally ready. And Lance would probably wish he was still able to talk him out of it.

–

"I'm ovulating."

Lance choked on his milkshake with undignified spluttering, and with a sleeve across his mouth he gaped wide-eyed at Keith. He stood in the doorway to his room, a loose shirt over shorts and swathing his unbound chest, clearly dressed for bed, a light flush to his cheeks as he crossed his arms over his body.

Lance blinked. "Come again?"

"Ovulating. Right now."

Incredulity pulled at Lance's features. Keith seethed lightly and pressed the heel of his palm into his lower left abdomen, mouth twisting as his body leaned to follow.

"And?" Lance squeaked, uncertain what he was meant to do with this very personal information.

Keith rolled his eyes, straightening. "And, that means in a week or so, it should be safe to have sex." He walked further into the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

Lance hid his reaction behind the glass as he took another sip of milkshake. "With or without a condom," Keith iterated pointedly, standing before him with his hands at his sides. A bubble burst over Lance's nose when he coughed in surprise.

"Do you want me without a condom?" Lance checked. All he got was a shrug.

"I'm saying if you don't want to use one, it shouldn't get me pregnant."

Lance balanced the glass on his knee. "I'm using a condom."

Keith shrugged again, looking… amused, if that was the word for that peculiar tilt of his lips. As if he doubted Lance could hold his resolve (possibly justified by past experience), but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. Adjusting his shirt, he pivoted and sat next to Lance on the bed. "Can I have a sip?"

Lance raised the glass up to him. "It's milk, babe," he cautioned.

"A sip won't kill me," Keith dismissed, "These are good when you make them." And with the unexpected flattery in place Lance could only let Keith take a mouthful, eyes fluttering closed in rare bliss at the alien sweetness over his tongue. His satisfied little hum was almost a contented purr, and he licked his lips after swallowing, tongue coated with cloudy white cream, the milkshake was so thick. Violet eyes pulled open, dark and glittering at Lance. His lips wet.

Lance cleared his throat and angled away, chugging the rest of the shake to freeze out the heat moving swiftly downwards. Keith had walked into the room announcing sex a good week from now, it would risk far too much to do anything tonight, even with a condom.

Not that Keith cared to wait that long. He eyed Lance with cunning interest, eyes drifting lower when he shifted one leg over the other. In a fluid motion he knelt forward off the mattress, settling on his knees and parting Lance's thighs.

"Keith," Lance checked, hands clasping his fingers to his legs, "You don't have to do anything."

"Let me," Keith insisted, edging closer. Lance let him pull his hands free and set to work on the draw of his pajama pants, undoing the tie and shimming the hem down his hips.

Lance often slept commando, and this night was no exception. Keith brushed his lips over the head of his rising erection, mouth still cool from the ice cream. Lance shuddered, the sensation icy and thrilling on a place that felt so warm. Humming to himself, Keith flicked his tongue over the slit; it was all Lance could do not to jump.

"Do you like it?" Keith asked, breath surprisingly hot over Lance's dick. Lance shuddered again – Keith's dark eyes were captivating, gazing so lewdly up at him through thick lashes, lower lip caught under his teeth.

"Fuck yeah," Lance breathed, fingers curling in Keith's hair as he moved forward again, enveloping his length in his hot-and-cold mouth in a single motion. "Christ," Lance swore, unprepared and fully amazed at how willingly Keith took him in the back of his throat, swallowing him whole without choking for a second. "How can you even breathe like that?" he grit through his teeth, barely able to see with the lightning bolts of sensation charging through him.

Keith pulled off with a wet grunting sound, lips lingering around the tip, and smirking. "I can't, really. But it was worth the noise you made." He grinned up at Lance, cheeks flushed.

"Babe, don't force yourself," Lance pleaded, although at the same time he would have given everything to have Keith deep-throat him again.

Without a further word Keith decided he would do exactly that, taking his whole length effortlessly and working his tongue and throat in practiced tandem. Lance rested a hand in his hair, but with a mind to draw him away rather than keep him in place – if things came to that. For all the talks they'd had, he remained unsure that Keith actually knew his limits.

But he came with a shout before he could doubt any further, Keith swallowing it down completely before lifting away, suppressing a hiccup in his fist as he sat back on his heels. Face burning, Lance averted his eyes, still new enough to all of this to feel a strange shame over his body's responses.

"You okay?" Keith checked from the floor, wiping his mouth – some saliva had dripped over his chin.

Lance righted his robe over his exposed and softening cock, too sensitive to pull his pants back up yet. "I'm okay."

"Was it good?"

Lance smiled despite himself, at how earnest Keith sounded. "Yeah." He saw Keith stand up out the corner of his eye, and Keith sat on the mattress beside him again. He held his stomach lightly, holding in another hiccup. "Are you gonna hurl?"

Keith shook his head. Coughed. Took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "Haven't done that in a while," he admitted, looking a bit sheepish. Lance allowed a chuckle, hoping to break the tension.

"Well, I'm honored you decided my dick was worth the effort," he said. Keith snorted and swatted his arm, laughter breaking his self-consciousness away. He leaned against his side, gently rubbing his stomach while it settled, swallowing rapidly to clear the remnants of the taste from his mouth.

"Does it taste bad?" Lance asked, self-conscious. Keith wiped a hand across his mouth again, licking his lips with a frown.

"Salty, mostly. I didn't taste your cum, actually – it went right down." A sudden last hiccup made him jump. Lance rubbed his back – uncertain if he would let Keith suck him off anymore if it seemed to cause this much discomfort afterwards. "It's fine. I've wanted to do that for ages, the chance just never came up."

Well, that assuaged Lance's guilt somewhat. No matter what else they did together, Lance always wanted to make it clear that Keith had no obligations – he didn't owe Lance a single favor in the bedroom.

"Consider it a teaser for next week," Keith said smoothly, gazing at Lance from the corner of his eye.

"I should return the favor someday, if you'd like that," Lance put in slyly, making Keith blush. "Would that be okay?"

"Depends on the day," Keith said frankly, clasping his hands between his knees. Faltering, Lance rubbed his back again. He could feel the ridge of Keith's spine and the smooth planes of muscle.

"We'll figure it out when we get there."

"Hm." Keith ducked his head in thought. Shifted where he sat and pressed his hand inside his hip.

"Does ovulation usually hurt?"

"Not always," Keith breathed in the sharp ache, "But when it does…" He grunted and tried to stretch out, arching on a diagonal away from the offending ovary. "It's like I'm getting stabbed with a screwdriver. And it's twisting."

Lance winced in sympathy, curling his arm around Keith's waist. "You don't need me to tell you this, but it sounds like having a uterus is actually garbage."

"Only half the time," Keith snorted, unable to hide his amusement. When the knowledge of his own wasn't actively causing dysphoria, Keith generally didn't care one way or the other. He worried more about the things people could see – things like his face and his chest and his hips.

Since getting together with Lance, he'd found a little more peace about all of that. If Lance excelled at anything, it was in meeting people as they came to him, and not telling them a word otherwise. Keith was a boy when he met Lance, and he said he was a boy; so Keith was his _boy_ friend, the _boy_ he loved more than anything, the hottest _boy_ he'd ever met. Of course everyone else on the ship knew and saw K eith as a boy as well, but it meant something profoundly more to Keith to have Lance, who knew his body more intimately than anyone other than Shiro – who of course was in his corner from the start – to have Lance as his lover, look at his body and see him as _him_ , never doubting for a second.

He still wanted broader shoulders, top surgery, and for his hourglass waistline to fill out – his dysphoria wouldn't go away just because Lance affirmed his identity. But to know Lance accepted his body and respected it, and his feelings and agency over it, quelled the anxiety in his heart and allowed him at last to _be._

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"It's not _that_ bad," Keith assured him, rolling his eyes but appreciative of Lance's concern. Especially since they had started sleeping in the same bed, Keith found he had comparatively little trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, no matter what weird pains his body threw at him. In fact he scooted over on the bed, lifting the covers and sliding his bare legs under them. Lance crawled up behind him, throwing the blanket over himself and waiting for Keith to back up against him before draping an arm over his stomach.

"Your feet are cold," He complained. Keith huffed, not moving them away. "Do I need to lend you some socks?"

"It's fine," Keith said, the room growing dimmer around them. He shifted a little, then relaxed fully with a quiet sigh. Lance laced their fingers and kissed his nape.

"We should probably tell the others we're involved," he said into the darkness, voice muffled in Keith's neck.

"It'd make things too complicated," Keith objected, ducking his chin so his face buried itself under the blanket. Lance's heart throbbed sadly. He had no reason to keep their relationship secret, but Keith had a lot of his own hesitations to work through. When Lance could get an answer out of him, it always came back to what Shiro would think, how he would respond. And Lance tried not to feel jealous that Shiro's feelings took precedent over his own, but it was hard to miss the solid fact that their leader always came first in everything that Keith did. One could argue that their (briefly) intimate history only compounded how desperate Keith was to retain Shiro's approval. And Keith seemed thoroughly convinced that Shiro would come to hate him for becoming pregnant, even if it was by accident; that Keith had sacrificed his future to see the pregnancy to term, only to lose it at the end by his own recklessness.

"It wasn't your fault," Lance had told him regarding the stillbirth – Keith wouldn't believe him.

If Keith began publicly dating Lance and inarguably having sex with him, Shiro would question his interests in Voltron, his work ethic, his integrity, and above all actively discourage their relationship. Or at least, so he thought. Lance preferred the more optimistic prediction that acknowledging and accepting their feelings for each other made them a better team, stronger because they could rely on each other in such a vulnerable way.

And while Shiro wasn't the jealous type, never mind that they had only slept together once, Keith feared Shiro would resent Lance, driving another wedge into the team. Above all things, Shiro was like a brother to Keith, and he had a protective streak a mile long when it came to the Red Paladin. How could Keith weather Shiro's lecture about how this was a horrible time to risk anything like a pregnancy, and not break down admitting that they'd already had a son together and Keith was too scared to say a word?

"People are gonna notice," Lance cautioned, "They're gonna realize something's up." Keith curled up tighter. As if he was trying to hide. "We might as well rip the band-aid off now."

"I'm not ready yet," Keith said. Lance squeezed him in a reassuring one-armed hug until his trembling quieted.

"I know," he said, not whining or accusing. "But you realize that it's gonna happen sooner or later, right?" No response except Keith tightening his arms around himself. Maybe they could get away with it for a few more weeks, but they were progressing quickly and one of them was bound to slip.

"I want to wait a little longer," Keith insisted, voice soft. Lance kissed his nape again, squeezing his hand.

"It's your call, babe," he agreed. Keith relaxed against him again and soon after that he fell asleep, Lance following in minutes.

They woke early, Keith slipping forward to land cat-like on the floor. He needed to get back to his room before anyone else awakened, so he wouldn't get caught leaving Lance's room. Lance gave him a last parting kiss for the day – it risked too much to sneak anything in during normal hours – and with a lonely-looking smile Keith left the room, padding quickly and silently down the hall to his dorm. Lance locked the door, leaning back against it before returning to bed for another couple of hours.

He loved Keith. That much he knew.

And Keith seemed to love him. Why was he so scared?

-

Keith startled awake with a gasp, hands out in front of him.

No… over himself. Over his belly, hovering…

Swallowing thickly, he lowered his palms down. To the smooth plane of his abdomen, feeling the still barely-there pudge he hadn't quite gotten rid of, though nothing like the swell of developing life. He felt something shift – a gas bubble, maybe – but he believed for a moment it was the movement of a fetus.

"Shit," he breathed, casting an arm over his eyes and trying not to cry. A year. It had been a whole fucking year, and he still had dreams, still jolted awake feeling for the baby. Its movements inside his body had been a comfort to him when he had exiled himself to the desert. A sign he was doing something important with his pitiful life.

Now all he had were twisting memories, ghosts of sensations he wished he could forget in the same moments he wished he could have them back. Like if he could do it all again he could do it all right – and he would have his son, and maybe Shiro would hate him, believing he had to stay on Earth because Keith was trying to tie him down ( _he could_ _**never!** _ ) , but then none of this would have happened and that meant Shiro would be _safe_.

Keith reached to the floor for his phone. Checked the time. Scrolled through an old album that a maintenance app had flagged. Put his phone down. He rolled onto his back and sighed, staring at the ceiling of the sleeping alcove.

He should have gotten footprints. Something to convince himself all of it had been real, because he was driving himself crazy trying to pretend like none of it had happened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the room, hands over his eyes as a single tear leaked out. Drew his knees up, made himself small. His body felt strangely heavy, and a deep ache yawned through his belly, an iron bar of pain carving into the back of his hips. _Oh fuck._ His breath caught in mortification.

 _It's_ _**early** _ _._

He pulled his hands away and blinked the spots out of his vision, realizing the pain in his dreams had been cramps, and not dawning labor.

Grimacing, Keith rolled up to sitting, peering at the sheets under his thighs. Still clean. He threw his legs over the side and pushed to his feet, staggering to a chest of drawers and fumbling in the top one for his cup even as nausea crawled in his throat.

He had already bled enough to mark his underwear, and rather than send it off to get laundered he rinsed the garment in the sink, intending to let it air dry in his room instead of suffering the self-imposed humiliation of bleeding on his clothes and someone else knowing about it.

The cramping seemed to intensify the longer he was awake and moving around. Keith hissed with the occasional vise-like squeezing between his hips, grateful when he could at last settle again in bed, taking the strain off his aching back.

"Shit," he murmured – he and Lance had planned it for tonight. Having sex. They would most likely have been fine a few days prior, but Lance had insisted on minimizing the risk as much as humanly possible. And Keith had been certain they still had time. Barring some irregularity after giving birth and after running out of testosterone, Keith's cycle always ran like clockwork. He could almost predict it to the hour. Why now, of all times, did his stupid uterus have to go and fuck him over?

They hadn't discussed this scenario. Lance had said months ago that he didn't mind if Keith was on his period for sex, but that was before they'd started seriously talking about it. Lance was basically a virgin. He might think it was too gross; and waiting another three weeks wasn't the worst thing in the world, but they would have the castle almost to themselves tonight. They might not get the same chance again with such otherwise fortuitous timing.

Lance needed to know, at least. With another groan at the pain in his belly, Keith pushed himself off the bed, searching the ground for a clean pair of leggings. His hips ached, and shimmying into the leggings wasn't the most pleasant experience but he managed, settling for the silly Red Lion slippers Lance had dug out for him some weeks ago rather than pulling on his boots quite yet.

He knocked timidly on Lance's door when he reached it. He suddenly remembered how early it actually was, but Lance answered quickly, shirt held in front of his chest and jeans half-falling down his hips.

"Hey, man," he said brightly, though he quickly sobered at the baleful look on Keith's face. "What is it?"

Keith hugged himself, face hot. "My period started."

Lance blinked. Then he caught up. "Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Wanna come in and talk about it?" He moved aside so Keith had room. He walked through the door and Lance closed it behind him, but he didn't move any further in. Lance shook out his raglan tee, pulling it over his head while Keith remained silent. "You doin' okay?" he asked once his head was through, threading his arms through the sleeves and tugging the hem down his torso. Dark lines of stretch marks were still visible above the waistband of his boxers; Keith's eyes drifted while he buttoned his jeans.

"I understand if you want to postpone, tonight," Keith said, resignation thick in his voice. Lance watched him. "It… It's kinda gross."

Lance considered him thoughtfully. "It's blood and other things to try to grow a baby. And yeah, it's not pretty, but it's not _gross_. It's natural, Keith."

Keith bristled. "You think I don't _know_ all of that? That's all the same stuff I tried to tell myself back when I still thought I was a girl."

Lance fidgeted at the hem of his shirt. Sighing in aggravation, Keith scratched his head irritably. "That doesn't mean I don't feel like garbage when it's happening. Or that I can't hate my body as much as I do right now."

"You're right, Keith. I'm sorry."

Keith averted his gaze. Sufficiently cowed, Lance shuffled his feet. "Would it make you feel better or worse to go through with tonight?"

Surprised, Keith turned widened eyes back to him. "You'd still want to?"

Lance dared a sheepish grin along with a shrug. "If you do. Anyway, I've heard it helps cramps, so it might be worth a try."

That, Keith didn't know for certain. Maybe it was dysphoria, but he always felt too sensitive, too ill, to even consider having sex. But he also had awful cramps already, and had to admit he was curious if sex would help to alleviate them at all. His hand splayed across his belly, trying to soothe the hard, throbbing pain deep within it. "I guess…"

Lance stepped in, hand on Keith's shoulder. "You have time to think about it. Let me know how you feel tonight, okay? If you're not up for it we can just watch a movie or something and cuddle. Sound good?"

Well, having a backup plan certainly did a lot to ease Keith's anxiety about all of it. He relaxed, a tiny shy smile chancing across his lips before he tilted up to meet Lance's kiss. "Yeah, sounds good."

–

It sounded a little less good some hours into the day, when the cramps set into full force. Keith curled up on the couch in the common area, heat pad to his belly and the softest blanket Hunk could find cocooned around him. All Lance could do was look on sympathetically, unable to fully tend to him without exposing their relationship. But Hunk brought him tea and made him warm, light meals; and Pidge sat on the floor at his head with a handheld console game when he complained he was bored but hurt too much to think; so like it or not, he was in many other good hands.

"I still have some chocolate from the last time I went to the Earth store," Pidge offered when Hunk wasn't around.

"It's okay," he replied, adjusting the heating pad a little lower on his hips with a grimace. Pidge still gave him her must suspecting side-eye, and despite his protests she dropped a bar on his chest soon after lunch. He thanked her in the end, mollified, and Lance smirked at him from the corner of the room. Keith rolled his eyes and flipped over, wishing he could just sleep the worst of the cramps away.

–

The evening felt like it took forever to arrive, and then everyone else except for Coran had left the ship. Coran needed to do some necessary maintenance, and everyone else wanted to go to the Space Mall, and Lance and Keith had happened to be 'voluntold' by Coran to help.

So, they helped, sort of, for a varga or so until Coran became frustrated with Lance's lapses in attention and kicked them both out of the engine room. Keith had _tried_ , but he couldn't focus with the war zone happening in his belly.

"So much the better," Lance said a little too nonchalantly, stretching his arms up as they walked. "More time for us."

"Were you doing all that on purpose?" Keith had to ask, arching an eyebrow.

Lance pouted his lips a little petulantly. "So what if I did?"

Keith rolled his eyes, secretly appreciative. "It's not fair to Coran."

That gave Lance some pause. "You've got a point. But he's not gonna let us back in at this point anyway, so we might as well… do what we're gonna do."

Oh. Right. Lance had left the ball in Keith's court. He flushed and dropped his gaze. Although he felt a _little_ better now, he still felt prohibitively sore, and he didn't have much confidence in Lance's ability to work with it rather than make things worse. Confident they were unwatched, Lance took his hand, and squeezed. Keith's face burned – Lance was so cheesy at times, and he loved that about him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, voice easy and relaxed.

Keith shrugged. When he could manage to put together a coherent thought that day, he'd thought about tonight, weighed his choices. And found he _ached_ between his legs the longer he thought about doing it; desired. _Wanted_ Lance. "I want to try."

Lance squeezed his fingers again, leading the way to his bedroom. They had agreed it would be in his room, because Keith wanted to keep his space his own. Lance checked the lock twice, and Keith picked his way toward the bed. The tremble started in his legs right as he made it, grateful to lower himself onto it although his heart rate only spiked higher.

This was it. They were doing this. It was happening.

He and Lance were going to have sex.

Lance fumbled in a drawer, pulling out a box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant that they probably weren't going to need, but was worthwhile to have. He brought them to the bed, setting them at the pillow for the time being. Then he sat on the bed next to Keith, blushing furiously as his brain short-circuited and he quite forgot what he needed to do next.

He had been drunk, with Mol. He barely remembered any foreplay, mostly the happy numbness in his brain, her limbs outnumbering his and securing him in place – but also the confusing stretch, the peculiar fullness as she worked into him, her staccato thrusts piercing his core and her pleased humming above his over-sensitized body.

"Lance," Keith prompted, leaning forward. Lance jumped, playing it off with a grin. Keith had done this before, he recalled. Quite a lot, too, depending on which of the rumors were true. Maybe that should have eased his worries but it only multiplied them. On the one hand, Keith could guide him; on the other, Lance might disappoint him.

"Sorry, not really sure what to do, here." He fisted the sheet under him, the first of a nervous sweat breaking across his back.

Sighing through his nose, Keith leaned toward him. "Would you kiss me?"

Lance obliged. Keith didn't leave it at that; he lingered, languid movements but intentional, almost massaging Lance's lips with his own, encouraging him to open his mouth and let him in.

Keith moaned softly, hands on Lance's shoulders as he edged closer, almost sitting in his lap when they broke apart for air, faces flushed and chests heaving.

"Christ," Lance breathed, eyes hooded, "Where'd you learn how to do _that_?"

Keith smirked. It was more fun not to tell. He straddled Lance's thighs, tilting his jaw back in a deeper kiss and simultaneously grinding down on his lap.

Lance whimpered at the stimulation, and Keith grinned against his mouth as he felt the first twitch of interest beneath him. Slim, dark hands skated over Keith's sides, long deft fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt and flicking across the sensitive patch of skin above his tailbone.

Keith shivered, rocking his hips over Lance's arousal with a tight whine. Lance flattened his palm over Keith's back, steadying him. "Are you okay?"

"Hm." Keith nodded, face pressing into Lance's neck. "Yeah." His hands pushed under Lance's wide shirt collar, reaching down his muscled back, raking back up over his spine.

"Fuck," Lance whispered harshly, catching Keith's face between his hands for a ravenous kiss, Keith's hungry touch igniting a hundred new sensations and wants and needs throughout his body. Keith moaned and squirmed, legs tightening on Lance's waist as he arched against him, nearly sobbing now at how desperately he wanted more.

"Lance," he gasped when he managed to break away, face flushed scarlet and tears studding his lashes. Pausing, Lance tucked a disheveled strand of jet black hair behind his ear, smoothed a thumb over his lower lip.

"Everything still okay?" he checked, wiping away a drifting tear. Giving a shaky smile, Keith nodded again. "Want to stop?"

Keith shook his head. He pulled Lance back in, mouthing his neck even as he fumbled at his belt. Lance threaded his hands in to help, squeezing Keith's nervous fingers when the nails bit over his knuckles. "Shirt off," Keith said, already tugging Lance's hemline.

Lance pulled back enough to slip his shirt over his head, tossing it aside in time to see Keith peeling his own away, shoving it to the floor and then staring wide-eyed at Lance as if he'd only just realized what he was doing.

He wasn't bare – he wore the plain sports bra he sometimes used instead of a binder. But he crossed his arms over himself anyway, flushing nearly purple. "Shit," was all he had to say on almost a _sob_ , eyes tightly shut.

"Keith," Lance soothed, curling his hands over Keith's shoulders. "Hey," he coaxed, giving him a gentle shake. Keith opened his eyes but couldn't look directly at him. "It's _you_ I'm having sex with. Not your body. Okay?" He hoped that made sense. Frozen in place, Keith said nothing, eyes turning glassy. "Want your shirt back?"

He nodded. Leaned aside so Lance would knock into him as he reached for the discarded black shirt on the floor. Lance averted his gaze while Keith pulled it back on, a tremulous sigh his cue that it was okay to look again.

"Sorry," he said, nearly a whimper, "I-it's usually fine for sex, but today—" Lance caught his fidgeting hand and kissed the exposed skin in the cutout on the back of his glove.

"It's okay. I want you to feel comfortable, Keith." And if that meant Keith kept his shirt on, then that was the way things were going to be. Keith's mouth twisted over his own self-reproach; of all people, he thought, he should be able to have his chest out around Lance. He disguised it as a particularly brutal cramp, hand cupping his stomach as he bowed forward to cover his shame. "Don't force yourself," Lance reassured him, "We don't have to do this."

"I want to," Keith insisted, straightening although he looked a little paler than he had moments ago.

"Okay," Lance agreed, wrapping his arms around Keith's back and bringing their bodies closer. Keith shivered with nerves in his arms and Lance almost asked what he was so anxious about – and why was he so _calm_?

He'd never felt toward anyone else the sorts of things he felt for Keith. Lance knew there had to have been others who caught his eye before Keith burst into his life, mullet and all – he just couldn't remember any of them right now. There were childhood crushes recorded in Lance's diaries, but – he had realized without ever writing a word – Keith was the one he could never forget. Maybe it took a few years to pull his head out of his ass and recognize everything for what it was, but he never could have gotten there without Keith casting that first-love sort of magic over him.

Keith's uncertain hands settled on Lance's wrists and his violet eyes shone with anticipation, body warm against him and thighs trembling.

Maybe – Lance was Keith's first love, too.

"I want you," Keith whispered, breath hot, fingers tightening around Lance's wrists. "I'm ready."

Lance leaned up into a kiss, while letting Keith push him down to the mattress with a quiet grunt. Keith stood on his knees as he fumbled with Lance's jeans, pulling the denim and his boxers down to almost his ankles – Lance kicked them off from there. Lance kept his hands ready but away while Keith peeled off his leggings and socks, hesitating to discard his short boxer briefs now they were so _close_ to doing it.

"Keith?"

He settled down on Lance's thighs. "Could… Actually, could this be under the blanket? Or with the lights off?" He frowned, looking humiliated. Lance sat up to meet him in a quick hug, kissed his cheek, and rolled off the bed so Keith could get under the sheets. There was some fussing on his part, and then the short briefs arced over the bed to the floor and Keith nearly disappeared under the blanket, mortified.

"Want the lights, too?" Lance confirmed. He would rather he could read Keith's face, but this was _about_ Keith, and keeping him comfortable.

"This is fine," he said, sounding shy.

"You sure?"

"Lance, get under here already."

Lance obliged, shuffling next to Keith under the thick comforter. His bare legs felt warm against his skin, sliding along his, trembling with nerves. He looked ill. But Lance waited before he said anything. It might be only a cramp, maybe a bout of nausea. The way Keith's fingers dug around his waist still indicated how much he wanted this. "We should've laid down a towel," he murmured, flushing.

"We still can," Lance said, trailing his fingers down Keith's arm, on top of the covers so he wouldn't get spooked. "I can go get one."

"Stay here," Keith said, fingers tightening; he might lose his nerve if Lance walked away right now. Indulging him, Lance edged forward to offer a kiss. Keith met him timidly, the kiss chaste and brief. "You really don't mind if I'm bleeding?"

Lance chuckled. "I feel like I should remind you that you wanted to have sex the quiznakking _morning_ after you watched me shit out three dozen space maggots." It was worth the color Keith's face turned at that – he had been on his period then, too, he remembered. "I don't think I get to have any say in whether this is 'too gross.'" He bumped their foreheads together. "It isn't, you know."

"I know; you said that before," Keith grumbled, looking away.

"I know how to get blood out of things. It's okay, Keith." He waited for Keith to come around, or move away. He wanted to do this as much as Keith did, but it wasn't worth it if Keith didn't enjoy himself. He hadn't expected Keith to hesitate quite this much – he'd never had a problem with sexuality back at the Garrison as far as Lance could tell – but then he supposed enduring an unexpected pregnancy and having three different rugs pulled out from under him in the space of one year had a deeper impact than Lance could ever understand. At best, he could relate to his anxiety about getting pregnant – _barely_. Conceiving with the person you owed your life to was hardly comparable to becoming an unwitting incubator for thirty-odd alien wasp eggs.

"Okay," Keith said, moving closer to align his body with Lance's, parting his legs at Lance's hips and rolling them until he was on his back, jaw clenching briefly as he drew his knees up to ease the pain in his belly. Lance's heat throbbed at his inner thighs and he ground slightly against it – the tip brushed the folds of his entrance and he squeaked, clapping a hand over his mouth as startled tears glistened in his eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Lance hushed, pulling himself away. He reached past Keith's head for a condom, making sure Keith saw him open it and inspect it for tears, that he raised up enough Keith could look down between them and watch him roll it on, but not before he thumbed the slit at the head to show him it was dry. "Nothing to worry about, okay?" Lance watched him, face open and reassuring. Keith's eyes squeezed shut, hands over his face as he breathed harshly through his nose. Why had that scared him so much? He was bleeding. Lance wasn't even that hard. They were safe…

"Sorry," he whispered, "I'm being stupid."

"You're being cautious. There's a difference," Lance comforted him, stroking his thumb over the back of Keith's hand to ground him. "I know you're tired of me saying it, but we can stop at any point. You know that, right?"

Hands still obscuring his expression, Keith nodded.

"Let me know when you're ready, Keith," Lance whispered, settling his body over Keith's but careful of his more sensitive areas – his chest, his hips, his belly. Braced on his elbows, he nosed behind Keith's ear and kissed him under his jaw, long fingers twining in the ends of his hair fanned over the pillow, watching him, waiting.

Lance's weight over him seemed to soothe him, and Keith found his heart rate and his anxiety decreased the more solidly Lance laid on him. They could do only this for the night and Keith would be okay. But he'd been feeling pent up for so long, and Lance was willing, and _damn_ he had a good cock on him – one that Keith had wanted to feel inside him for far longer than he could stand anymore.

If it hurt, so be it. He wanted Lance more than he'd wanted anybody, and nothing could match the physical pain of pregnancy, labor, birth-- he wouldn't think about any of that right now.

Right now was him, and Lance, and the closing space between them. And how much he came to realize he'd grown to love Lance.

"Do it," he breathed, drawing his hands away from his face at last, hooking his arms over Lance's neck. He let his thighs drift wider apart, shifting down on the mattress and gazing up at Lance. "I want you." He'd wanted to say "I love you," but he didn't think he could say it right.

Lance reached down to kiss him, coaxing his mouth languidly open. "Can I touch you?" he asked between Keith's lips.

Keith nodded, taking his hand and guiding his fingers down to the soft heat between his legs. He was trembling, the anticipation shivering in his core. Long slim fingers massaged him, dipping just inside and circling the outer edges in turn. A thumb rubbed over a place that curled his toes and Keith moaned softly, equal parts pleasure and shame. Lance paused. Keith pushed his hand lower, teaching by feel how to work him open, help him relax enough to take him inside. Lance's fingers were hot against him, strong as they spread through his core and reached up into him. His nails flicked against something flexible but unyielding and Keith jolted, mouth dropping in a surprised yelp.

"Was that…?" He'd hit the stem of his menstrual cup.

"Yeah," Keith said, biting his lip, "Don't do that again."

"Can you have sex with that in?" Lance worried – it was a lot… closer to the surface than he expected.

"…"

"Keith."

"I forgot to go take it out. We'll really need a towel…" he shook his head. "I've never tried, but I don't think…"

Lance hummed uncertainly. "It's up to you," he said, "But that looked like it hurt."

"It didn't hurt," Keith insisted, "It was just uncomfortable."

"Do you want a moment to think about it?"

Keith pursed his lips, reflecting. As much as Lance tried to convince him he didn't mind if blood got everywhere, he really _didn't_ want to get blood everywhere. No one had ever thanked him for bleeding on the sheets, period or no. But they were already here, and Keith was scared to ruin the mood more than his stupid physiology already had.

Lance turned his hand and squeezed Keith's fingers.

"I emptied it right after the others left," he said softly, "so if I take it out again here, it shouldn't make a lot of mess…"

"Want me to get up?" Lance offered. Keith shook his head again.

"I'll lose my nerve," he whispered, voice trembling. But Lance shut his eyes and looked away as Keith reached down, only hearing the slight sounds, and a little wet _pop_ accompanied by a tiny whimper. The mattress rocked as Keith shifted his weight and rolled over to tuck the cup out of sight. "You… you can look, now," he said timidly, although when Lance opened his eyes Keith had covered his own, only peering at Lance through a slit under his forearm. There was blood on the tips of his fingers.

"Towel?" Lance offered again; Keith had his other hand suspended, also bloodied, and he seemed unwilling to touch anything. Fully shielding his eyes and flushing nearly violet, Keith tersely nodded. "I'll be right back," Lance whispered, pecking the outer side of Keith's guarding forearm before slipping out from the covers, retrieving a towel he'd hung up on the other side of the room. He'd used it to wrap his drying hair after showering earlier that day, and hadn't gotten around to bringing it out for laundering. "Will this work?" He couldn't see where Keith had stashed his cup, he noted; but he took Keith's word for it that wherever it was, it wasn't making a mess.

Keith thought the towel was a little small, but he didn't want to make Lance get dressed and send him out of the room to find something bigger. He nodded, still not trusting his voice. Lance handed him the towel, and it vanished under the covers. The blanket rose as Keith lifted his hips to arrange the towel underneath him; then it fell again and Keith rested, knees still drawn up.

Lance was acutely aware of his nakedness, and he shifted his weight. "Are you okay?" Keith's face remained beet red. "Do you want to stop?" Keith shook his head, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Slowly, Lance pulled the corner of the blanket up and sat under it on the mattress. Then he slid his legs under the covers as well, sliding down until he was level with Keith, but not crowding his space.

Eventually, Keith's gaze slid over to him, watery but unafraid.

"Hey," he rasped, voice clearer than Lance would have expected.

"Hey," Lance returned, leaning closer. Keith reached for him and Lance followed, lifting his body over Keith's and letting Keith decide where it landed. "You good?" he checked when he settled, blue eyes locked unwaveringly onto violet.

"Yeah, sorry," Keith said, clearing his throat a little as if to steel himself. "Keep going," he blurted, fingers tightening on Lance's shoulders.

Lance still looked doubtful, but when he slipped his fingers in again he did it carefully, spreading them slowly, gently exploring inside and easing Keith's tension away until with a suppressed sigh he felt himself open fully – practically limp under Lance's ministrations, legs shivering and falling totally apart, Lance's hips sinking lower until his length rested along Keith's entrance.

"You want it here?" Lance confirmed, stroking hooked fingers over that little spot that made Keith's spine tingle.

"Mm. Yeah," he breathed, arching gently at Lance's touch. He'd mostly taken it in the back before – part of how he'd avoided getting pregnant for as long as he did – but he ached for Lance in that certain place alone, his body wishing for him to make a dangerous pact.

Shiro had broken that promise, even though he never meant to at all. Regret twinged in the back of Keith's mind, but then Lance was cupping his face for one more kiss and his scent and warmth were so different from Shiro's that he remembered where he was again.

Keith closed his eyes – smelled cinnamon and mango, felt safe as if under a homemade quilt, Lance's body soft and slender over him and between his thighs. Pale hands grasped at strong shoulders, pleasingly warm.

Shiro had been blunt, heavy, too hot and dwarfing him. His gentleness came with too much caution, afraid to break Keith and holding himself back from his body's own desires, from the things that Keith truly needed.

When Lance entered him, his body accepted it with a quiet, contented sound. A key sliding into place, unlocking something he forgot it was possible to know. The pressure in his belly hurt for a moment, the fullness unfamiliar to the point of pain but so grounding at the same time because this was _Lance_. The the gentle heat followed and he relaxed around it, finding comfort now in the new weight inside him. Not too much, he thought with relief. Shiro had felt huge, his rhythm almost punishing with how far he stretched Keith's inner walls even though he took so much care not to injure him.

Keith shifted and couldn't hold in a soft whine – as tenderly as Lance held him, he couldn't avoid putting pressure on his swollen uterus, the ache practically bruising between his hips and his belly churning at the foreign sensation. He swallowed thickly, eyes squinting as he breathed through it. Lance laced their fingers together.

"Hey, you're okay," he soothed, squeezing his hand. A few tears fell despite Keith's efforts; the pain had scared him, the nausea and the strange grinding pleasure running beneath it all. Hiccuping on a half-sob, Keith gripped Lance's hand tightly, averting his gaze in shame as a tear dripped from the outer corner of his eye. After everything else, he'd hoped it wouldn't go like this. "Keith? Talk to me, man."

Keith bit his lip, heart hammering.

"You're crying; am I hurting you?"

Lance's voice sounded so quiet and worried, and he hated it. Keith was fine, he'd had worse. He was just… It caught him off-guard, was all. He adjusted his fingers over Lance's knuckles, hand cramping from how desperately he'd held on. Breathed. The ache subsided, a dull throb in his belly. "I'm fine." Lance delicately adjusted himself anyway, to find an angle that wouldn't hurt so much, and Keith felt himself move with it. "You're inside me," Keith whispered half to himself, sounding incredulous. Violet eyes slid back to meet Lance's own. "I can't believe we're finally doing this."

Lance let out a soft chuckle, despite himself, finding some of the tension diffused. This had been a long time coming. He carded his free hand through Keith's hair, smoothing it out of his face. "Wanted this for a while, huh?" His voice was husky, uncertain, but trying so hard to keep things easy between them. "Me, too." They rested together, Lance continuing to pet Keith's hair back and whisper Spanish nothings to him when he couldn't fight down his trembling. Stroked lightly along his side, hand slipping under his shirt to massage his lower back where he could swear his hip bones threatened to crack apart. Didn't move, wouldn't move until Keith was ready for it.

Keith shifted his hips, Lance's cock pressing firmly in different places and sparking knots of pleasure-pain inside him. Nausea roiled in his throat and he swallowed it down. If he struggled this much with merely having Lance inside him, he began to doubt if he could handle when Lance started moving.

"Maybe if you rode me?" Lance suggested quietly, knowing that particular grimace all too well. Keith shook his head, eyes over-bright when they locked on his.

"This is okay, I just… This is harder than I expected."

"Are you dysphoric?"

"Just... sore."

" _Too_ sore?"

Keith shook his head again. He'd had worse, he kept telling himself, like it would make things actually better. Lance wasn't trying to hurt him, and he definitely wasn't trying to serve his own needs while ignoring Keith's. But he didn't want to be treated like he was made of glass, either.

"I'm okay," he insisted again, flexing his thighs experimentally before bringing them up around Lance's waist. Lance's warmth against his tender belly felt comforting and soothing, the hot palm still splayed over his lower back easing the stubborn ache there as well. The heat inside lingered at slight discomfort now, but nothing he couldn't handle. He had _Lance_ now, the only boy he had ever wanted. He could endure anything so long as he had Lance here with him, even this.

The realization made him blush – Shiro had always been his number one priority since he was practically a child – when had that changed?

"Move," he said, flushing more deeply with a new wave of affection. Lance leaned down to kiss him until he relaxed again, then with a quiet sound he drew his hips back a little, relacing his fingers with Keith's as his trembling sigh caught on a whine. "Go," he said before Lance could open his mouth, squeezing the dark fingers decisively. Lance hesitated, then pressed all the way back in, Keith's hips rocking slightly with the movement into his core, Keith letting out a soft noise he couldn't discern as he landed to the hilt and pushed at an unknown place inside. Lance continued to thrust shallowly, allowing Keith time to acclimate, to find his rhythm, to change his mind before he caused him too much pain.

"More," Keith panted at last, rewrapping his legs and hooking his arms over Lance's neck, nails biting into his shoulder as the changing angle struck a new place inside him with greater intensity. "All the way," he breathed, craving that oscillation between empty and full, the friction against him as Lance slipped all the way out and slid all the way back in at an even, though inexperienced pace. Lance didn't have the confidence to take him as quickly or roughly as he usually liked, but he didn't want fast or hard right now anyway, as it turned out. The more Lance worked inside him, the more visceral the clawing ache in his abdomen became, and the gladder he felt that Lance insisted on being so gentle with him. Anything more than this would be far too much.

Still, Keith couldn't help the quiet whimpering that escaped him on the occasional misaimed thrust, the random jolts of his limbs as Lance rutted against more sensitive places inside him. And Lance whispered softly to him, little placations and hidden questions if he was hurting, if they needed to stop.

Shiro was the only other person he had taken this way, the only one he could compare this to. He hadn't found release with Shiro, too overwhelmed by the unexpected girth locking itself between his hips and the compounding grief that this was Shiro's last night on Earth before he would fucking _leave_ _him_ behind. Shiro had rutted into his body until he came with a voiceless shudder between his over-flexed thighs, pulled out with guilt coloring his face and rolled over before he had to acknowledge what he had done to Keith – a man in his own right before he'd even realized, yet still the child he had practically raised since Big Brothers Big Sisters matched them together. Keith had at least waited until he was eighteen; he knew Shiro would never agree if he was a minute younger. It was only a turn of fate that Keith happened to be eighteen before the Kerberos mission was announced, Shiro selected, Shiro broken up and broken-hearted enough to seek comfort in Keith's familiar and faithful presence, even if he acted later like he wished it had never happened.

Lance had wanted this from the start. His eyes roved over Keith as they worked missions, sat in meetings, sparred together. He made little passes of his hand over Keith's shoulders, down his arm, teasing across his lower back when they were alone. And Keith had done all of this enough to recognize the almost tangible difference between someone who'd merely gotten hard and someone who actually desired him. Something in the tenderness of his touch, how fluidly their bodies moved together when Lance pulled out and thrust in again, their bodies meeting rather than colliding; even the fullness inside him felt more reassuring than any time before, the emptiness when Lance withdrew felt less hollow.

Lance's cock rubbed over a sensitive spot inside him and Keith moaned, mouth falling open as true pleasure at last tingled through his belly. "Right there," he gasped when he could speak again, gripping Lance's shoulders when Lance caressed that spot again as if on cue. He cried out, and Lance met his open mouth with a kiss, muffling his stuttered moans as he struck that point repeatedly, breath growing harsh as Lance dared picking up his pace, grinding over that point of pleasure while Keith peaked higher, higher, vision whiting out and head rolling until he clenched down on the hot length and tipped over the edge with a sobbing scream, body twitching around Lance as Lance carefully fucked him through his orgasm, every tightening of oversensitive muscle around his cock drawing an aftershock of ecstasy through his body. His belly ached, his hips felt bruised, and his back twinged – but he felt warm, and he felt safe, especially when Lance pulled out in a fluid movement to finish over his stomach, demonstrating that the condom was still intact even as the tip bulged out with cum. Only the barest amount of blood streaked the length, gone when Lance slipped the condom off and tossed it over the side of the bed.

Exhausted and sore, Keith drew his legs up and Lance leaned away, hands on either side of Keith's waist. His shirt had ridden up during sex, stretch marks and lingering baby weight on display, but Keith didn't care right now. Lance's eyes glowed at him and he was trapped in their light, unable to feel sadness or shame so long as the other boy looked at him like that. He dared a nervous grin up at him, and Lance giggled, settling on his heels and rubbing his neck in a sudden shyness.

The towel was just large enough Lance laughingly offered to give Keith some dignity back, and as he folded the cloth over his hips his eyes fell onto a particular mark that made his heart drop. "What's this from?" Lance murmured half to himself – Keith started. Without thinking, Lance traced a line with his thumb across Keith's lower belly, inches under his navel. His eyes brightened in shock and they met with Keith's, clearing as dismayed understanding hit him.

Keith hated _that_ scar most of all.

"I couldn't give birth on my own," he reminded him, despising how helpless he felt saying it.

"Oh, _shit_ ; Keith, I'm--"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," he snapped tiredly, turning his head away. He just wanted to sleep. After a few seconds where Lance seemed ready to insist, he clicked his jaw together with a curt nod and backed off both metaphorically and physically. He draped the covers over Keith after crawling out of the bed, discarding the condom in the room's trash bin before pulling on some sweatpants and gathering up their discarded clothes.

"Do you want any of these?" he checked quietly, holding up Keith's underwear from one fingertip with a light blush.

Keith reached for the briefs, and as before he manipulated them under the covers, settling down once he had them on. He still looked out of breath and flushed, and Lance kept his distance while he rode out whatever dregs of the afterglow remained. Then he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

Keith reached for him, and they linked fingers in a fumbling motion. He shivered, feeling cold and self-conscious now he wasn't enveloped in Lance's warmth. And he felt a bit sick, from the effort, now. If he was honest, he doubted that having sex had alleviated his cramps at all, no more than any light exercise he'd tried before in lieu of pain meds – but he felt a little more relaxed now, and he supposed that was a good thing. Whether he would do that again, though... It hadn't _hurt_ , but it had been uncomfortable until Lance happened to find his "sweet spot," more discomfort than he believed he could put up with for a second time.

"I don't think I want to do that again," he admitted quietly. Lance frowned, and squeezed his hand.

"No," he agreed, "I don't think that was worth it, either. Do you feel okay, though? Did I hurt you?" Aside from breaching a sensitive topic…

Keith shook his head. "I'm fine, now. I just…" he hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. Averted his gaze. Lance squeezed his fingers again. Sighed. "That didn't go very well, did it?" For him, or for Lance, he suspected.

"It's okay, Keith." He stroked his thumb over Keith's knuckles. "We can try again later." Keith chewed his lip, and Lance didn't miss the way he stiffened for just a second. "You sure you're alright? Do you need anything?" Lance sat patiently waiting – instead of rolling over to fall asleep or ignore him, or leaving the room, or making Keith leave without a further word or glance between them.

"Could… could we still cuddle?" Keith stammered, self-reproach coloring his face; he wouldn't blame Lance for refusing him after he'd snapped at him like that, gone cold like he was now. But Lance grinned and slipped under the covers without letting go of Keith's hand, giving Keith space to decide how close he wanted to be. It took a mere moment for Keith to edge closer. Lance was the only one who knew his secrets, and Lance was unceasingly curious; as much as Keith held things close to his chest, he had to accept Lance's compulsion to ask questions without a second thought. Lance's heat was a welcome balm and he sighed into it, burying his face in Lance's neck as the Blue Paladin wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Keith," Lance whispered after a minute, hand playing in Keith's hair.

"Yeah, me too," Keith echoed, squirming as the cramps returned to his belly with full force all too soon.

"You don't have to apologize." Lance kissed his crown, wishing he could do more. Keith felt guilty about a lot of things, and Lance only knew about some of them. As far as he was concerned, none of this was Keith's fault. "Shit's hard."

Keith snorted. "You have no idea." He wriggled closer still and closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind of everything but the experience of Lance, his warmth and his sounds and his scent.

"Don't you need to put your thing back in?"

Keith winced and shifted, tucking his chin. "It'll be fine until morning. I want to stay here." He expected Lance to object after all, to insist he avoid getting any blood on his sheets; but Lance pulled him in closer and kissed him again, fingers curling over his nape in a way that made him sigh and melt into bliss.

His heart slowed, his breath quieted; he fell asleep.

–

Lance woke up again to see Keith sitting up, scrolling through pictures on his phone. He'd gotten up and dressed without disturbing Lance, and Lance let out a little groan to alert he was awake.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asked drowsily, rubbing his eye. Keith looked forlorn, and that worried him.

Without preamble Keith passed the phone over to him. "Here," he said, "Flip through."

Lance raised up onto his elbow, flicking through the album with his thumb. All the pictures were dark or out of focus, but he could tell by the messy black hair alone that they were all pictures of Keith. They were candids, Keith either not looking at the camera or reaching to snatch it from the photographer's hand.

"Who took these?"

"A friend." _Keep going_ hung in the air between them.

Time passed in the pictures. Keith's hair grew longer and he started wearing sweaters that looked big enough on him to be Shiro's; but as Lance continued through the album those same sweaters appeared to fit less and less loosely – around his middle.

_Oh my god._

Lance tapped the screen to call up the album name – 'Tyler.'

_Holy shit._

"Keith—"

"It's okay." Keith's eyes were clouded, arms wrapped around his knees.

The pictures remained out of focus for a while, but as Keith's belly grew, more and more of them became obviously staged – appointments at the doctor, ultrasounds including one that had a bubble-lettered "It's a BOY!!" written over the top in turquoise pen tool. The lighting in that one had been just enough to make out Keith's hand holding the side of his belly, and Lance could almost convince himself that Keith was smiling.

There were photos of Keith surrounded by shopping bags of baby clothes and toys, several of him in the middle of constructing a bassinet. And his belly getting bigger and bigger until he seemed fairly dwarfed by it.

"How were you able to stand up?" Lance blurted after viewing a profile shot with "39 weeks!!" scrawled at the bottom in that bubbly hand, this time purple.

"It wasn't easy," Keith deadpanned. "Or comfortable. I could barely breathe at the end." He leaned over Lance's shoulder to see where he was in the album. "I went into labor the day after that."

The lighting in the pictures dimmed – Keith explained it had happened in the middle of the night – the pictures now fewer but more jarring. Keith's face twisted in pain, cheeks blotchy from crying, arms wrapped over his belly tightened in contractions. EMTs arriving; the ride in the ambulance. Keith gripping another pale hand wearing candy-pink nail polish as he weathered unspeakable agony, hair a mess and dripping sweat.

The final picture in the album was over Keith's shoulder, sweat-matted hair framing the side of the shot. An infant wrapped in a snow-white blanket held so carefully in his thin arms, nearly as pale as the hospital gown. Keith's nose; Shiro's brow.

"I didn't want her to take that one," Keith mumbled. When Lance looked up Keith's eyes were wet, face half-hidden behind his knees. "It's all I have left of him, now."

"Keith," Lance croaked, realizing only now how much he was tearing up. Phone still in his hand. The screen went black. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Keith said automatically, voice shaking, wiping tears away with the heel of his hand. Lance passed his phone back to him and he looked at the final picture again. "It's probably…" he trailed off, realizing what he was about to say.

"Do you want Shiro to know?" Lance dared ask – it didn't take a genius to see that Keith trusted the man more than anybody – and that this devastating secret had driven a wedge in Keith's confidence.

Keith chewed his lip, fat tears silently falling down his cheeks. "Someday. I think he deserves to know. But I can't hurt him like that."

It was better than living with the pain alone, Lance wanted to object. But Keith was stubborn. He needed to decide to tell Shiro on his own. He sniffled.

"Anyway, I thought you should see. So you can decide for yourself."

Lance blinked, sitting up. "Decide what?"

Keith averted his gaze. "If you still want me."

Sighing under his breath, Lance rested his forehead on Keith's shoulder. "I've wanted you since I was fifteen. That hasn't changed."

"Even though I had another man's baby?"

Lance took a steady breath. "That was your choice," he finally said. Keith didn't look at him. "And I'm so, so sorry that he didn't make it."

"Would you still want me if he had?" Keith pressed; Lance's heart twisted in his chest.

"Yeah." He felt tears drop from his eyelashes. If things had gone differently – if the next time Lance saw Keith after his expulsion from the Garrison, he had a baby on his hip and Shiro's ring on his finger – Lance would have ached in his heart of hearts for it. To know that Keith had stumbled upon that sort of future he wanted so badly for himself, and that future couldn't be with _him_. "I'd be jealous, too."

He wasn't in any hurry, obviously, but he knew he wanted to have a big family. And while adoption was his first choice no matter who his partner turned out to be, he couldn't help wondering in the back of his head since Keith came out to the team if Keith would ever be willing to carry – only because a miniature Keith sounded like the cutest possible thing.

Well, for Shiro at least, he would.

Keith scrutinized him, though, face flushing angrily. "That someone else got to me first?"

"That you got to have a baby with someone you _love_ ." Lance dried his own tears away and sat up, stricken by the pain in Keith's eyes. "It wasn't just _somebody_ , Keith; it was _Shiro_. I understand."

"It's not like I _tried_ to get pregnant."

"I _know_ , babe." They'd had this conversation before. "It was an accident. I get that."

"And I don't want _you_ to get me pregnant, either."

"I know that, too," Lance said good-naturedly, although the emphasis on 'you' stabbed his chest a little deeper than Keith probably intended. They had agreed that if by some misfortune Keith _did_ conceive, he would decide on his own what to do, and whether he would tell Lance about any of it. Lance believed he would most likely terminate, and not breathe a word about it unless he needed Lance's help to and from the appointment. He couldn't say yet how he felt about that, but that wasn't his decision to make, either. "That's why I got the condoms."

Keith buried his face in his hands, frustrated. Sniffled. Didn't even peek at Lance through his fingers. Lance sidled next to him when he quivered from emotion. He cupped a hand around his shoulder and pulled Keith against him, rubbing his arm slowly. Rested his cheek against sleep-tousled black hair.

Wondered again if taking this step in their relationship – if having sex – was worth it, after all. But that was a conversation they'd had before, too.

Celibacy was too much to ask for; they were too pent-up out here. They were at least being careful, and they had a backup plan. They couldn't raise a baby out here, let alone bring one to term. They disagreed for the moment on whether the rest of the team ought to know they were seeing each other; but as far as the both of them were concerned, no one else had to know they were actually _intimate_ so long as nothing critical happened.

"Would Shiro hate me if he knew I was banging his little brother?" Lance blurted into the silence, but he also felt genuinely concerned.

Keith snorted. "That might be the pot calling the kettle black, I think."

"...Was that a _pun_?"

"Was it?"

"Never mind..."

"...Calling me his _brother_ in this context is really weird."

Lance tilted his head and considered. "Yeah, good point."

"I don't even know why he agreed in the first place," Keith murmured, looking lost.

So it _had_ been Keith's idea. Not that Lance believed for a second that Shiro would have forced Keith into something he didn't want, but _knowing_ he hadn't coerced the younger Paladin into the sexual encounter that ended up impregnating him at least quelled his fury on Keith's behalf. Keith had never said it wasn't consensual, either, but… there was _something_ about how _quiet_ he was the previous night, how at times he looked to Lance like he wasn't even in the room. It unsettled him.

"We were both hurting too much to ever be talked out of it, I guess."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Keith," Lance insisted, unsure if he could handle details with any grace. Keith certainly didn't seem proud of it, nor did he ever indicate he'd choose to do it again.

"He was going to leave, and we wanted to feel something good. We both thought it would be safe."

"Did you use protection?" Lance checked, eyebrow raised.

Keith swallowed thickly. "Yeah. The condom broke. We used it to keep the mess down anyway; Shiro was supposed to be infertile."

"A bit TMI," Lance said, face hot as he looked away.

Keith shrugged. "That was what they told him." He frowned. "Or how I interpreted it, anyway. I guess I didn't understand that 'infertile' usually means 'actually a tiny bit fertile' if you're really unlucky…" He shifted, gritting his teeth at a rolling cramp in his belly. "I was too depressed to pick up my testosterone prescriptions after he was reported missing. When I started getting sick and didn't have a period after two months, I took a pregnancy test in a gas station the next town over."

And another month later, the Garrison administration found out and expelled him. "I threw up and fainted in the flight simulator. The flight instructor made me go to the infirmary, and they tested me for pregnancy even though I told them I couldn't be."

"Did you really think you could _hide_ it?" Lance interjected – he'd just seen the pictures, after all; Keith had started showing quickly, and by the end of it he had gotten _huge_.

"I thought I could figure something out. I was due late summer, maybe I could get away with larger uniforms until school let out, you know?"

Lance shook his head. In his observation, only the very lucky could conceal a pregnancy longer than five or maybe six months. Tiny as Keith was, he never stood half that chance.

If it were him, Lance would have aborted. The Galaxy Garrison was not just any academy, and children could wait.

But Shiro was also not just any man, and Keith had been grieving his absence long before he had to consider whether he would keep Shiro's baby. As far as anyone knew, Shiro was dead. And as far as Keith was concerned, he owed Shiro his life, and that extended to the life of his son. He _wanted_ it, wanted something of Shiro he could touch.

The more Lance learned, the more heart-wrenchingly tragic it all became. More than just knowing Keith lost a baby – Keith lost a _lifeline_. Lance was astounded that he'd managed to press forward after all of that, and he couldn't help saying so.

"Shelby helped a lot, after. With not falling apart too much." Keith scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed. "I also… had this nagging feeling that Shiro was still _alive_ out there. And I had a lead on _something_ bigger than all of it, and maybe it would give me some answers." He'd started tracking down the Blue Lion, but he didn't clarify if he thought that might bring him to Shiro – certainly he had never stopped hoping they would meet again. "I thought… I felt like it'd help me find my mom."

Well, that was new. Lance gaped at him a moment before he realized and closed his mouth.

"Your _Galra_ mom?"

Keith shrugged, misty-eyed. "Obviously I didn't know about that, then. It just… it felt familiar? I don't know how to explain it. When we all found the Blue Lion, I really felt like I'd been there before. But I _know_ I hadn't." He sighed. "I don't even know how my dad met her. Just said she would come back soon." His brow knotted; he looked distressed, conflicted. "But he said he _loved_ her."

Lance smoothed Keith's hair back. "Is it that bad? We know not all Galra are evil, now, right?"

"Why did she leave?" Keith insisted, rubbing his eyes. "Dad never told me why she left. Was it _me_?" He started crying. "Did she leave me because I look human?"

"Keith," Lance soothed, rubbing his back, "You don't know what happened. And unless she's still out there somewhere and you find her, you _can't_ know. Why torture yourself like this?"

Keith sniffled. "I just want to know who I _am_!"

Lance couldn't help the exasperated smile. "You are Keith, Red Paladin of Voltron, the most naturally talented fighter pilot anyone at the Galaxy Garrison can remember, Shiro's hot-headed kid brother, and my very passionate, very handsome, very insecure boyfriend." He leaned in and kissed his hair, "Oh, and you're part Galra," (kissed his cheek) "but you're also part human," (kissed his nose) "and a full pain in the ass even on your best days." (Kissed his lips.) "So, it all evens out."

Keith managed to scowl at him. "Keep talking like that and I will _show you_ a pain in the ass."

Lance choked on his saliva at that. But a weak smile tilted Keith's lips upward and a bit of light had come back to his eyes. So at least Lance had helped somewhat. Maybe… maybe he simply _couldn't_ understand how desperately Keith needed answers about his past and his… his family. Lance knew Keith was an orphan from a young age and he grew up in foster care, never adopted before he aged out of the system, Shiro the closest thing to true family he'd ever experienced. Keith didn't have anywhere he felt he belonged. And while Lance could be pithy and insist he belonged with the team, Voltron was his family now, the Castle-Ship his home, none of it felt secure or permanent even to him. It could all dissolve as easily as every placement, all because he did one thing wrong. All Keith had ever wanted was to trust the ground he walked on, and the floor kept falling through, every single time.

But his parentage was something that would never change, and he needed something like that he could always hold on to, even if the truth of it hurt.

Lance couldn't understand that, why he chased after the things that hurt him when he had already been through so much. But Keith still seemed to think it mattered. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked at last, hoping it was something within his depth – like kissing him again, or knitting him a new sweater that would fit properly, or taking him on a date to the Space Mall.

"It helps that you listen," Keith said, sounding weary. Lance kissed his cheek with a little more feeling, lingering close after. "Thanks, Lance."

"Any time, buddy," Lance intoned, wrapping an arm over Keith's shoulders. "I was hoping I could at least make you breakfast or something, though."

"I'm not that hungry right now…"

"Can I make you something anyway?"

"...If you want."

Lance kissed his lip again, although he didn't actually seem inclined to move. More like he wanted to stay close to Keith, reassure him he wasn't leaving.

Or like he was worried Keith might disappear on him.

"Are you going?" Keith dared ask, wincing as soon as he did – as if fearing Lance would actually jump up and leave for him asking.

Blessedly, Lance kissed him a third time instead. "It's comfy here, actually," he giggled, pulling Keith in tighter to bump their foreheads together, "I know I've said this like eighty times, but I really wanna be sure you're okay. _Are_ you okay?"

And though overall Keith looked doubtful, a tiny twitch of his lip indicated he was edging in a more optimistic direction. "I think I will be," he said, voice slightly warmer than it had been a few minutes ago. Lance grinned, feeling a little triumphant.

"I'm glad to hear that, at least," he said, tucking Keith's head under his chin. "Let me know when you're hungry, okay?"

And Keith took so long to respond, Lance didn't think he would. But then Keith reached his arm around Lance's side, and squeezed ever so carefully, and a contented little sigh brushed over his chest. "Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> (Just ask for a back rub next time, Keith.)
> 
> Uhhhh so you know that thing where I never like my endings? Yeah.
> 
> ~~You also know that thing where that tends to mean I can be persuaded to write more things? YEAH. See you in another year?!?~~
> 
> Since I feel like it's not super-clear (which is to say it's not broken down at all, my bad), my not-canon head-timeline for this is: Keith is 18 in October 20XX; he's sexually active and Shiro knows it. And Shiro can't stop him, so he just reminds Keith to be careful -> Kerberos is scheduled after the winter holiday break, so somewhere in December Keith cracks and asks Shiro if he would -> Keith delivers in August -> a few months later Shiro crash-lands back on Earth -> "Host" is ???several??? phoebs after falling through a wormhole -> this fic is a few further phoebs after that.
> 
> Anddddd I low-key have a headcanon that Krolia often visited the Blue Lion while she was pregnant, cos it felt safe or something, and that's how Keef was able to sense/track the Blue (and Red) Lion's energy; cos Lion Energy is like playing Mozart in the womb or smth idk. So that's where that bit came from, in case anyone was wondering.
> 
> Thanks for reading...?
> 
> Now go wash your hands and wear ya damn masks.


End file.
